


Sins of the Father

by MissWoodhouse



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25008706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWoodhouse/pseuds/MissWoodhouse
Summary: Mr. Darcy senior fathered two sons, as well as a daughter, although on paper he only ever recognized the one.One of those young men had inherited all of the goodness to be found between them, while the other, it seemed, had all the appearance of it.Only this time, it wasn’t the one you might expect.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My mother pointed out the implications around George Wickham's parentage after we'd both read Jo Baker's Longbourn a couple of years ago, and I never could quite get it out of my head. Longbourn is wonderful, by the way (Pride and Prejudice from the Longbourn servants' perspective) and everyone should read it if you haven't had the chance.

From the moment of his Christening, all of Lambton knew precisely who Wickham’s father was – knew that it was not the man who stood beside his mother at the font.

What on earth had possessed her to name him Fitzwilliam, no one knew. Her lover had given her a kindly husband, a steady income, and a comfortable household – why ask for more? Why force a sort of half-acknowledgement from a man with a family of his own to raise, an acknowledgement that could do nothing but bring shame upon her son?

\---

George was a good, sensible name, thought Mrs. Darcy. An easy choice – no one had to be offended. There were certainly enough of them in the family tree, and on the throne.

George for a boy or Georgiana for a girl – that’s what she’d said to her husband – although her own mother might have said it was tempting fate, to be speaking into fruition any plans about what she’d call a girl.

In the end, perhaps it was.

She hadn’t the chance to say anything the next time around, so when she died giving birth to her second child, her husband remembered and called the daughter Georgiana.

\---

Fitzwilliam Wickham, although it was an unspoken truth throughout the village that he wasn’t really a Wickham, grew up somewhere in the space between Lambton Village and Pemberley House. A liminal space – his fathers’ house.

The steward’s boy, under the wing of the master. Running about nearly like brothers with George Darcy, all throughout the grounds.

Fitzwilliam knew the liminal well, the challenges of navigating village and estate, brother and not-brother, son and not-son. He knew he had to be better, always, than young Darcy – to be more deserving for a fraction of the reward – but never, ever to show him up. To participate in just enough trouble not to be a spoil-sport and to reign George in just enough for it to benefit them both.

George saw Fitzwilliam mostly as healthy competition – healthy in George’s book signifying that his competition could be vanquished by reminding the other boy of his duty to lose.

\---

Before we examine the events that follow any further, it is perhaps worth asking how much the young Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy knew of their relation to each other. The answer is about as much as you or I.

They each knew the facts, as all of their neighbors did: of their births so close together that in nappies they practically might have been twins, that they’d shared a wet-nurse (or rather, that Mrs. Wickham had been George Darcy’s wet-nurse), that Mr. Darcy senior had shown great favoritism towards Fitzwilliam Wickham, and that Mr. Darcy senior’s Christian name had been William.

They each knew at least enough of Latin and at least enough of history to understand what Fitz generally meant tacked on to the beginning of a name.


	2. Chapter 2

At university, George Darcy was an indolent sort of fellow, who went up to Cambridge because it was expected of him, got sloshed frequently because he could, attended lectures sparingly because they were boring, and only narrowly avoided being sent down because his father was rich. He was charming and attractive, with a gambling problem only slightly deeper than his pockets and a string of women in and out of his rooms at all hours of the night. In short, he was wholly unexceptionable.

His friend – if you could call them friends at this point – Wickham, was rather a more unusual sort. He was clever, and diligent – as any charity pupil ought to be – but walked a strange sort of tightrope between obsequious and over-proud. He was what resulted when you crossed consistent reminders of one’s internal worthiness with comparably frequent reminders of one’s low station in life. The combination might have played out differently, on other temperaments, and it is probably worth noting that he heard the former mainly from Mr. Darcy senior, and the latter largely from Mr. Darcy’s son.

It was also probably worth noting that by this point Mr. Darcy senior, like Mr. Wickham senior not many years before him, was recently deceased.

\---

Mr. Darcy, newly come into his inheritance, was in the process of discovering just how much of his late father’s money was tied up in various trusts connected to the estate.

It had not always been this way at Pemberley, certainly the money was much freer when Mr. Darcy senior had inherited the estate from his own father. But he saw the way his son overran his allowance – always sure of being bailed out by his father before the end of the term – and thought it might be better to play things on the safe side, at least for now.

Aside from the money tied to the running of the estate, and both the allowance and investments left to his son George, William Darcy left Fitzwilliam Wickham the money to finish his education, and a generous living at the local parish church for him when he was done. For Georgiana, he left an impressive dowry, as well as an allowance to provide for her maintenance until she was wed.

Pemberley was a considerable estate, and Mr. William Darcy, if he had been interested in re-marrying, would have been considered quite the catch with an income approximating ten thousand pounds a year. Mr. George Darcy, however, was learning that however many pounds he had available to him per year, they were disappearing at the card tables at an astonishing rate.

George was at the card tables more often than in the classrooms his final year – always sure that one more bet, one more round of liquid courage, one more pretty girl on his arm would make all the difference in the world for him. Would turn things back around.

\---

Fitzwilliam Wickham, by this point, seemed to be getting on considerably more cheerfully. The church might not have been his ideal profession – sermonizing from a podium would never be task he looked forward to with any relish – but it was a respectable one, to which Mr. Darcy had encouraged him and his tutors seemed to think he had a well-suited mind.

He had hit it off, rather unexpectedly many thought, with a young man at college called Bingley, who possessed a respectable level of income, but who some of the other lads turned their noses up at because said income had been earned by his grandfather in trade.

Bingley was effusive and outgoing, intelligent if you really got down to it, but rather too willing, some might say, to concede a point for the sake of keeping the peace. Wickham was quiet and brooding – he didn’t say much until he did, and then he eviscerated you long past having made his point. Perhaps he’d done so in defense of Bingley or perhaps Bingley had felt charitably towards the young man sitting on the outskirts of the others, all on his own. However it happened, by the time third year exams rolled around Wickham and Bingley were clearly thick as thieves.


	3. Chapter 3

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. It is a truth near universally un-acknowledged that a single man without the benefit of a fortune, might be in want of a wife as well.

And so it was that when the Bingley party took up the lease at Netherfield Park, all the attention of the neighborhood was on the young, unmarried Mr. Bingley and his five thousand a year. While there was much discussion regarding each of his particulars, the matters of chief importance were to be summarized in his good face and good fortune.

Of the others in his household, this much was known: Mrs. Hurst was Mr. Bingley’s eldest sister, and her husband was of little consequence to the young ladies by virtue of being a husband. Miss Bingley was unmarried, but as she was used to the glamour of London, was unlikely to be in competition for the affections of any local lads. Rounding out the party were a mysterious young lady, who appeared to be still in the schoolroom, and a dark-haired, serious young man who was said to be the young lady’s guardian and dressed rather in the style of a poorer relation.

This intelligence was relayed through a neighborhood grapevine such as has existed ever since mothers first began to worry about marrying their daughters off. Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn had the news both from her sister Mrs. Phillips in Meryton, who had seen the party’s arrival, and from Lady Lucas, whose husband had already paid his call. Having more daughters than either of them, Mrs. Bennet was quite sure that an introduction for her family ought to have taken precedence.

\---

Mr. Bennet had, in fact, taken the opportunity to call upon his new neighbor, but judging Bingley a rather uninteresting, if earnest and good-hearted, young man did not see quite the same value in Bingley’s acquaintance as the Bennet women did. In Mr. Hurst, if he’d chanced to make the acquaintance, Mr. Bennet would have seen at least some sport to be had, and with Mr. Wickham he might, in fact, have had perfectly satisfying conversation, if there had been any reason for conversation between them to commence.

For the rest of the Bennet household, then, there was no opportunity for introduction to the Bingley party until the public assembly in Meryton not long after their arrival. With Mr. Bingley they all found themselves quite content, for Bingley was as eager to please as he was to be pleased – and the young man was sure to express his pleasure about everything and everyone he encountered that evening. If he was particularly pleased with the eldest Miss Bennet, it was only noticeable to her mama – who would have been sure of Mr. Bingley’s affections whether they existed or not – and to his good friend Wickham, who was decidedly more cautious.

Mr. Bingley danced more than once with pretty Miss Jane Bennet, and for her own part, Jane glanced in his direction whenever she found herself waiting out a dance at the edges of the room. In any well-planned assembly, a girl a pretty as Jane shouldn’t have had to sit out any dances that weren’t of her own choosing, but in Meryton there were not nearly enough partners to go around, and only the very young and very inconsiderate did not do their parts to spread the wealth.

That evening, those who might be deemed selfish in the dancing department, included Jane’s own youngest two sisters – Lydia more so that Kitty, although not for lack of trying on Kitty’s part – and Mr. Bingley’s friend Wickham, who did not dance at all. He proved to have neither any interest in dancing with Miss Bennet’s next eldest sister – Elizabeth – when Bingley tried to add the pair to their set, or in conversing with the younger sister Mary, who also did not dance and had heard something about Mr. Wickham’s planning to be a vicar. If Mr. Wickham’s lack of participation was an oddity, and rather a discourteous one, Miss Mary Bennet’s was entirely unremarkable – she had proudly sat out nearly every dance since making her “debut”, if one could call it that, in local society.

Also abstaining, and rather too pointedly to deemed selfless in their actions, were Mr. Bingley’s sisters, who gazed judgmentally down their noses at all company except their brother’s. If Mrs. Hurst did not truly have the height to be gazing down her nose at one, then the statuesque Miss Caroline Bingley did so well enough for the both of them.

\---

What Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley’s judgmental eyes had told them, apparently, was that Miss Jane Bennet was probably the best approximation of suitable society that this provincial backwater was likely to afford them. Had they realized the depth of their brother’s interest in her, they probably would not have invited the acquaintance. But they did not realize it, and so invite her they did.

In fact, they invited her to join them quite frequently, as they had come to learn that a girl in the schoolroom – however wealthy and well-connected she may be – is not nearly sufficient entertainment for two grown women who were taught to occupy themselves with accomplishments rather than interests. If the girl is shy, and interested mostly in playing mournful music on the pianoforte, then this is doubly so, no matter how wealthy she or her devastatingly handsome – and more devastatingly absent – brother might be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grad school is turning out to be a rather all-consuming endeavor (especially when it involves moving to another country in the middle of a pandemic), so unfortunately I can't promise that updates will be any more regular from here. Here's another short chapter, and I'll hope to get one or two more written in between my essay deadlines and the start of the next term.

Whatever confidence Mrs. Bennet may have had regarding Mr. Bingley’s preference for her eldest daughter, she knew that preference – even affection – was a quite long ways from the security of a marriage . And since it was imperative to both her own and her daughters’ fortunes that Jane make a good match, Mrs. Bennet did what she could to help things along.

One morning when rain threatened, for instance, Mrs. Bennet encouraged Jane to accept Miss Bingley’s invitation to Netherfield, but denied her the carriage. She would not wish any harm to her daughter, certainly, but a slight cold would surely be a small price to pay for a marriage proposal.

Elizabeth was adamant that it was a horrible plan of her mother’s concoction, but dear, sweet, obedient Jane only smiled and said she thought she saw a break in the gloomy clouds.

And so dear, sweet, and pretty Jane Bennet gamely set off for Netherfield on horseback and arrived there – still on horseback – looking dear, sweet, and pathetically soaked through.

Mr. Bingley was, well, rather in a dither about it, and Miss Bingley could only stare in horror and order that a doctor be fetched at once. Mrs. Hurst had the poor girl bustled up to one of the bedrooms, and servants were dutifully sent to light a fire and fetch the doctor, and then to send word to the poor girl’s home.

Word was sent, and the servant returned, when Georgiana Darcy turned to Mr. Wickham in the drawing room, and said, “Will she be very lonely, do you think – Miss Bennet – when she wakes? It is only, I was thinking how much I prefer to have a dear face beside me, when I am ill.”

“That is,” said Mr. Bingley, overhearing her, “that is an excellent idea, Georgiana. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it myself.”

“Yes. Always, so very kind, Georgiana,” said Miss Bingley, in a simper that nearly disguised how much she disagreed, “I’m sure we can ask the servants to fetch one of us when she wakes.”

Georgiana was quiet at that, for a while. Then, in barely a whisper. “Hasn’t she many sisters, Fitzwilliam? Shouldn’t you think she might like to see one of them?”

“Now Georgiana,” said the man beside her, “it would hardly be proper for us to invite further visitors when we ourselves are guests in Mr. Bingley’s home. I’m sure as soon as she is ready to travel…”

“Nonsense, nonsense!” replied Mr. Bingley, full volume. “Of course, we must invite one of her sisters, if Georgiana thinks that would be best. Yes, surely that must be best.” He was not only well disposed to accept any suggestions to increase the comfort of Miss Bennet, but also eager to encourage any and all opinions from the quiet, timid young girl who had arrived on his doorstep nearly trembling some weeks before.

So eager was he, to fan any whim of young Miss Georgiana’s, that by the time he was done speaking it was determined that Miss Bennet’s sisters must be nearly as perfect company as the eldest, and that Georgiana herself, escorted by Mr. Fitzwilliam, would take the carriage to invite one of them – neither of Mr. Bingley’s sisters being inclined to make the trip herself.

\---

This was really quite a fortunate turn of events, for at about the same time, one Miss Eliza Bennet was resolving, in her own way, to do exactly that. Having been in her father’s study when the letter arrived from Netherfield for her mother, Elizabeth was quite the last of her sisters to know of Jane’s ill health. She determined almost immediately to set out of foot to be with her.

Now there are many routes that one may take, by foot, between Longbourn and Netherfield, but only one by carriage. It was fortunate that Miss Elizabeth did not set off sooner than she did, or Miss Darcy’s carriage would have quite missed her on its approach. As it was, she was spotted from the window just after abandoning the road in favor of a more direct route. Her skirt was splattered with mud, but not yet intolerably so, and the rain had slowed to enough of a drizzle that she shouldn’t be in too much danger of catching her sister’s cold.

Miss Elizabeth was duly invited into the carriage, which continued on to Longbourn, at Mr. Wickham’s insistence, so that she might pack herself what was necessary to stay the night. Miss Darcy was rather fearful that this errand might require her to leave the carriage and make conversation with the other Miss Bennets while Elizabeth packed. Elizabeth, however, had a keen perception and reassured her that she needn’t quite as soon as the question was asked.

The necessary things having been gathered, and her new mode of conveyance much admired by Mrs. Bennet and her brood, Elizabeth returned to the carriage, and set off to nurse her sister.

\---

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, of course were quite shocked by Miss Elizabeth’s wardrobe – not only that the dress she’d arrived in was splattered with mud several inches above the hem, but also by the plain attire she had packed with her. Not even a suitable dress to change for dinner with the rest!

Elizabeth was determined that she should not need to change for dinner. She was here to nurse her sister, and would take her meal on a tray in the invalid’s room.


End file.
